


Unsaid

by corvusaraneae



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:11:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvusaraneae/pseuds/corvusaraneae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are better off said before the one you have your heart set on gives his heart to someone else. [Onesided RonxWill]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> I'm happy to say this little story ends on a happy note… for the parallel that it is. I'm sure this oneshot will as well. If I ever get down to giving it a second chapter with the ending it deserves.
> 
> Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji is property of Yana Toboso, I own nothing save for this fanfiction and the dream that we get more of these two in the future.

Simply put he loved him.

He loved him in the way secrets were: in the dark, denied, hidden away and in plain sight all at once. But he covered up his love with shallow lust. Sure, there were passing winks at the girls in reception, dates offered here and there when another mixer had been scheduled for the fifth of whenever but he could never shake that one truth from his mind. He loved him.

There were times when this was pushed aside, when he'd managed to convince himself his boss had enough on his mind what with the quota and the paperwork and everything. However it was during this time where he wanted to make himself the most useful. Up production, get out there on the field, tedious as it was. But when he'd returned to the Dispatch Department and everything was out of the way, there was always one last document. One last soul. One last bit of trouble.  
And he loved him even more at these times.

But he didn't always love him. Far from it in his earlier years when he was just a new recruit who had never felt the hum of a lawnmower engine. He'd left the Academy with the same eager, cocky, headstrong attitude most his peers lost upon graduating. One could have said he was a natural livewire. Oh, he heard the taunts from his classmates-turned-colleagues as he passed then in the halls. They were there mingled with the goodbyes and good-lucks.  
"Dispatch? Good luck with that, Ronnie."  
"There go the parties."  
"Under him too. You got your work cut out for you, Knox."

So he had the feeling he was screwed from the get go.

And yet his spirits were never dampened.

Perhaps it could have been said that in his earlier years, he was more impulsive. More reckless. More stupid. But that was the curse of youth and inexperience. The added curse given by that thirst a child had to prove himself equal to the rest.  
Youngest in the department at that time.  
A new recruit.

Every one of these reasons becoming even more one to get out there and show himself to be more capable than age would allow.

However, a pack of rogue demons and one broken scythe later found him instead in his supervisor's office and face to face with those intense emerald eyes for the first time. There was more of a fire in their fury and scolding than the one seen in the heat of battle. Though he kept his head down at each word, he was more than sure those eyes were on him and him alone. So much for his first day on the job.  
"Six demons. Six, Knox"  
"What were you thinking?"  
"Of all the reckless, impulsive, stupid things."  
"Didn't they cover this in basic training, honestly."  
"There are reports to be filed and they will be. I expect them in the morning."

…ouch.

"You could have been killed."  
And somehow he loved him for that.

In the morning, the reports had yet to be filed. However, there was a fresh cup of coffee where they were expected. They did, however, show up that afternoon several hours overdue amidst hasty "I'm sorry"s and "I won't do it again"s. He was sorry. As for not doing it again, that still had yet to be proven.

He also liked to pretend he wasn't as smart as he let on. They liked his charm, he noticed, the way the others seemed happy to have him around. The way Rachel-from-Accounting found him akin to a puppy dog. Michelle-from-HR found his innocence an added charm, too. It made him more approachable, easier to talk to. Lips were looser around him so it was no surprise he heard every single rumor that circulated in and around the various departments.  
Talk that he didn't favor the ladies made his heart swell in hope.  
Talk that he had his eye on a particular reaper who worked in his department gave him a little chance.  
Talk that he liked redheads crushed his dreams a little.  
However, he never let on that he heard about these things nor did he ever let slip that they were true. Especially the bit about a certain shark toothed redhead who seemed to do the impossible and elicit a response from him.

It was on those days when jealousy was his fickle friend and in the more quiet evenings, his constant companion. As were vodka and brandy and nameless other things shared with nameless faces. But come the mornings, he was alright again save for the occasional hangover or stinging cheek for when he'd forgotten someone-from-accounting or whatshername-from-HR. It grew easier to smile as the days passed. Yet he loved him even more and never stopped.

The French have a curious phrase for this, he learned while talking to a particularly cute newbie. (Ginger-from-Distribution-Window-3, she turned out to be)

_La doleur exquise_

"Go for it, Ronnie!" she urged him on, all bright and blue eyed beneath her smooth training specs. "I'm sure she's a lucky girl."  
"Yeah." he managed to smile.  
"Lucky girl, huh?" he muttered soon after as he turned from her window.

Would it be worth it, he wondered, to hope against all hope that rumors were nothing but baseless rumor? That he had a chance? That he, with his dual-toned hair, unkempt as it was, all childish smile and youthful carelessness could turn the head of one who lived for rules, for order, for proper actions in a proper society? what he would give for once, just once, to hear his name fall from his lips in wistful ardor rather than in a heated scolding.

Sometimes, he tried not to think about it and chose instead to play the role of the unknowing, diligent cheek who on occasions did more than he was asked. Work did good to keep his mind off rumors though they were hard to ignore during long hours when "I expect you in my office within the hour, Mister Sutcliffe." would break the silence. Those were the nights, he decided that it was best to keep his head down and bury his jealousy in papers and stamping.


End file.
